


It's a Terrible Investment.

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Bit of Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, No beta bitches, Relationship Beginnings, Shit went down but now they're picking up the pieces, Short and slow updates, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: After the fire, Barnum, Carlyle and co are thrown to the streets left to endure harsh conditions and the slow break down of their group. But now they have a chance, is it too late to pick up the pieces though?





	It's a Terrible Investment.

The sky had unleashed an entire blanket of white, with snow piling up on the cold cement laying now a few inches beneath men's feet as they passed by in the busy streets. Buildings loomed over head with a morbid view as they looked down on the small group of currently three while they bundled by a sparse fire in silent dismay, through the soulless eyes of grey windows, Philip could only guess the dismay that came with the view of his little monochromatic group. With this blanket of dense snow, that had only arrived in recent days though to be quickly resented by the young man had come howling winds, so fast that they whipped at the skin in a bitter almost vengeful fashion- as though they had a hatred to be expressed.

Phillip Carlyle knew that hatred all too well with the cold turning his skin red and frozen despite the thick layers he'd been forcibly bundled up in, he quaked with it, the snow being up turned by the tips of his boots as he pushed himself up from his seat beside the weary Lettie and Charles and going to pace back and forth in the alley way, wishing for heat to return in the numb regions of his toes and feet. He couldn't feel his fingers either. But, he thinks bitterly to himself, it's not like he had much use for them. Not after they lost the circus, not after he lost his apartment, not after he lost his family, the circus or rather the only one that really the mattered.

To explain, in a brief manner, after the fire and the disaster left by its horrendous wake, the circus had lost it's home and Philip despite what he'd thought he had saved, was unable to help buy new land. One thing lead to another thanks to a lack of work and opportunity, and he could no longer pay the bills, the circus had no home to go to and by now Charity was long since now done with Barnum’s antics and so now, they were all on the streets, left to suffer by sparse light in the back alley behind some dingy bar. And slowly over time their numbers had dwindled.

It was just him, Lettie, Charles and, of course, Pt left now. Anne having disappeared one evening, and the others just… just fading, one by one like snowflakes by a fire, leaving into the background to never be seen again. Was that his fault? Did they ever think of him? Were they okay?

Clammy, frozen fingers startled him from his thoughts as his posture snapped upwards and his first bitten fingers went to smack the offending fingers away from where they'd attacked below his shirt collar from behind.

“Barnum!” his vocal cords shrieked at the same time, the name, his name, slipping out of his lips before he could stop it as he spun round to face the dirty man. Barnum was smirking, enthusiastically so and so, despite the grimacing effects it usually brought about, Philip was overrun with a sense of hope of some positive news.

“Carlyle!” Barnum now mimicked, his sturdy frame lifting Philip's into the air, spinning him around, once twice and then a third time despite the dangers of the ice that lingered beneath their feet, like a predator awaiting its prey to fall. “Carlyle, Carlyle, Carlyle, oh boy do I have news for you.”

Philip paused and took note of that ridiculous yet oh so memorable mad man's grin on PT's face but firmly decided it wasn't no different from any other eccentric smile he'd received from the tall male before, which was exactly why he had no trust in it. But he took a gamble on it, as he'd often come to do in the presence of mister Phineas ‘possibly a gambling addict’ Barnum. “Good news hopefully?” and before PT could reply, “My kind of good news.”

PT looked affronted for a second, as if outraged that Philip could assume he had anything less, but with the snow casting it's cold on his fist red skin, he flipped back to his usual childish demeanor at a breakneck pace, “Philip, when have I ever had bad news?” and this time before Philip could respond, “Exactly, never. Now listen up!” Philip flushed with a bright and embarrassed blush, not noticing as Pt placed a hand on his shoulder, and instead rolling his eyes at the overly dramatic way that PT grabbed the attention of the only three people in the alleyway with a loud shout and flamboyant hand gestures, “Lady and gentlemen, I present to you-” he fishes out a singular, silver key, “The key to our new apartment.”

Time slows for Philip at that very moment.

It's in that moment Philip's heart stopped, a quiet stillness looking over him as his eyes glazed over mid way through his observation of the ecstatic man before him. It's in that moment that Philip blushes not out of embarrassment of too much drink, but out of a singular second of but wrenching emotion.

But time sped up again, just as it always did.

“It’s about time Barnum.” Lettie speaks up in a light, though as they all knew, tired chuckle as she glances up from the fire where she'd been warming her hands to match gaze with Barnum's hazel eyes. Charles doesn't seem to have the energy to say much but in the brief moment in which Philip had spent time enraptured in the warmth that now filled him, the three had started a whirlwind of chatter to which he could only look too and observe. Pt's hand still lingered on his shoulder.


End file.
